Quinn stood in the doorway of the bedroom he had meticulously prepared, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed inside.
Paisley’s room was almost aggressively cheerful with the pastel pinks and purples layered carefully, gold accents catching the light from a soft lamp on the nightstand. A new bedspread shimmered faintly, sequined stars stitched into the fabric. Stuffed animals sat in neat rows along the headboard, arranged with a precision that felt deliberate rather than playful.
On the floor, a small bookshelf bowed under the weight of brightly colored novels and spiral-bound notebooks. Everything had a place.
Paisley sat at the desk, pencil moving smoothly across paper.
She didn’t startle when he knocked on the doorframe. Just looked up. “Quinn?” Her voice was steady. Curious, but not
